Union
by Parabola Beam
Summary: She's fallen too deep into her roles and ended up with no identity. She had many names, but none that were hers. "Finish what you start, Calisto." Calisto/Shih-na mind-screwy selfcest within, inspired by Black Swan, written for the PW kink meme.


Her performance lacked.

Everyone tires of dancing the same role eventually. But she was _different, _she assured herself, because her acts were how she survived.

She's fallen too deep into her roles and ended up with no identity. She had many names, but none that were hers. Death. Rebirth. It was all the same and lead to the same dead end.

Except she was not ready to retire.

In her mind's eye there was a mirror. Calisto saw her running mascara and snarled back until her reflection cowed before her and vanished. What a wretch. Only three years worth of a flawless performance under the belt of that persona, but it is important to her because that was how she first met them: the ones who'd exorcised her from the role, and him, the one who'd sustained the very next and last. Who needed family when she could splice her soul and self-reproduce, making a new body?

The problem with cutting yourself in half is that you lose more and more each time. She'd lost so much already on her own and that's just how it was. Would it have been different had she not been sucked in head over heels? Maybe. Her reflection is back and laughing now. Laughing garishly and cruelly and wide-mouthed and bitchy and _at her _and _stop it. _

This laugh is the only part she retains from role to role.

But by now it pisses her off to no end because she can't even have control of that anymore. When the ringing laughter doesn't stop she lashes out with an infuriated cry and shatters the mirror beneath her knuckles, warm blood oozing over her chilled fingers. As it piles in a crumbled heap at her feet, she sees herself again.

"Shih-na."

Solemn and smooth, she crunches the shards beneath her shoe as she steps over it to approach her other half, the edge of her dress grazing a few of the broken pieces.

Calisto sneers and spits at her feet, enraged. Shih-na broke the pattern. Her persona's shelf life extended instead of shrinking. Seven years. That's more than twice as long as Calisto. Shih-na had help.

Shih-na was a _cheater. _

If Calisto had found a comfy foothold she'd still be thriving. But no, she had to manage on her own, playing for the losing side from square one. Calisto would've made it work if she'd had him plus one-hundred.

Shih-na smiled serenely, auburn eyes so dark and quiet they looked red. Shih-na was the patient and quiet one and the look on her face said she'd wait for the tantrum to end as long as it took.

"You're worse of a fuck-up than I am." Calisto spits venomously.

"Aww. You're upset."

"Shut up."

"Your time was up. I did what I had to."

"Shut _up._"

"Someone's got to clean up after you."

She moved to slap that pompous bitch, but a gloved hand caught her wrist. As if it's the most natural thing in the world, Shih-na, unphased, calmly pulls the hand to her mouth and licks, lapping up the blood, wet and dried. Calisto finds her heart trembling from the taste that should be in only Shih-na's mouth. The taste is suffocating and the bits of glass stuck into her skin gently erode her throat.

It tastes like bitterness and failure and Calisto's had more than enough of that.

She jerks her hand away and whips her gun out of her jacket, Shih-na also producing a gun from who-cares-where. Simultaneously the muzzles of the guns reach the others' foreheads. The metal is as cold as the heart they're wielded by.

They stare at each other for a moment, feral. The guns press insistently, with the exact same amount of force, equilibrium, equipoise. Calisto wants to gag at the thought of any part of them being equal.

_"You can't kill me! You're nothing without me!" _They shout in unison, confidence lacing their one voice. Calisto's eyes widen and Shih-na's narrow, bearing an obvious, insufferable taunt.

All too quickly, Calisto discovers just how much was really gone. She'd reached the end of the frayed and thin tip of a long, long rope, and she suddenly knows it with all her body and can't bear it but must accept that this woman, Shih-na, is all she has left. There would be no more names after this. No more pretending she had a life to call her own.

Calisto Yew was a ghostly excuse for what it meant to _exist._

All that was left was to take the one thing left that belonged to her.

Wordlessly they toss their guns aside and are tearing at each other's clothing. No more disguises, no acts, no tricks, just the one honest moment they'll have ever lived. The dress, the gloves, the shoes, stockings, all ripped off. The suit, the jacket, the tie, shirt bra panties all gone and let's do this already before our time's up. Arms around each other, unashamed to touch so closely because in the end it was the same body, they share a kiss. Same mouth, struggling to make the same movements. They know exactly how to touch because all they need to know is how to please themselves, but they can't do the same thing at once and it's_ frustrating_ that not even this will go right. Each pair of breasts swelling gently into the other holds the same fluttering, gasping heart. Her head isn't even swimming at this point; it's drowning and running out of air to breathe.

And suddenly kissing isn't enough, never was and never will be, and all notions of gentleness are shattered, because one of them has to give.

Completely naked, they wrestle each other possessively, moaning as soft skin brushes together, and Shih-na comes out on top, with a snide comment as to how she was known to last at least twice as long as her anyway. Rage bubbles in Calisto's throat and she fights it for some agonizing moments as Shih-na pins her with that insufferable ease, tongue roving across plush, full lips, her regal throat, rosy peaks of breasts, sucking and nipping and being embarrassingly thorough. It's humiliating but she will be damned before letting Shih-na see the extent of her vulnerability.

Dimly she's aware what an absurd thought it is that she can hide something from herself. She struggles harder as fingers become involved, spreading her center and rubbing into the wetness that's already there, fingertips forcing their way inside and pumping her to a painful depth. Calisto isn't used to it and protests, hands grasping for shoulders futiley. That's enough, she scowls, but Shih-na, in a burst of frustration, slams her down with the unoccupied hand and for a moment the expression on her face is unsettling.

"Finish what you start, Calisto."

There's not a snowball's chance in hell at control so she settles for the next best thing: payback. Well-manicured nails drag across Shih-na's back with the intent to hurt, but she shows no sign of discomfort aside from dramatically increasing the intensity of her fingers' movements.

Fighting only made it hurt more. She should've stopped a long time ago. Whatever happened to her "one honest moment"? Like a coward, she turned tail and fled when it didn't turn out exactly as she pictured, just as she'd fled the many lives she occupied.

It's hilariously depressing. Calisto laughs her true laugh as hot tears blind her, and through it she can see Shih-na smile with what she thinks is approval.

Some things are so personal that it's difficult to share them with even oneself.

Her head tosses from side to side in ecstasy as Shih-na kisses her where it counts and makes her _feel. _Her laughter intensifies as she reaches her threshold and finally crosses it, gasping and exhausted. Her chest is heaving with the effort to breathe and her eyes flutter shut. Shih-na's weight atop her feels good, like something snapping into place, and she welcomes her with tight arms. They share a quivering kiss despite the shortness of breath.

Whole at last.

As quickly as the solace comes it's over. No long, lazy cuddling. No navel gazing. No dreams, and no more names. The end tapped her on the shoulder and announced that it was here, ready or not. What awaited before her was the emptiness of not being.

The man who took a bullet for her asks, "What are you thinking about?"

Shih-na takes her gaze away from the passing view out the car window and glances at her cuffed hands absently. _It's over._

"Nothing."


End file.
